ADDITIONAL TROPES:

aceofportsmouth·:

He laid his head on the pool edge, looking up at Quinn with a soft smile. “I’m a tad jealous. I don’t have any cousins.” Booker shared. “My brother and sisters are great, but it’d be nice to have some outside of my immediate family, you know?” Sharing helped with finding common ground. Booker thought of himself as an open book, if that book had sentences with whited-out sections. “Greer seemed like a party girl. Do you think she would be proud of this event? Or would you like to talk about something else?” Booker added, blinking innocently. “I think we have some classes together. If you’d like to discuss classes, who doesn’t love talking about medicine, right?”

               her   eyes   narrowed   conspicuously   as   he   reeled   off   question   after   question.   she   didn't   even   know   this   guy's   name   and   here   he   was,   prepped   for   an   interview.   quinn   didn't   know   if   it   was   recent   events   with   greer,   being   forced   to   be   at   this   stupid   party   or   her   morrison   upbringing   but   it   put   her   back   up.   what   was   his   deal?   she   tried   to   turn   the   conversation   around.   "do   we?   what's   your   major?"

kitkallberg·:

-

Of course not followed by Quinn gesturing over her shoulder. Kit didn’t know what to believe. His face crumpled in confusion. “Uhh no,” he answered. “I mean, it was a beach ball so it’s not like I’m injured. It hurt just a bit.” Whoever whacked that ball had some serious fire in their palms. He continued to rub the back of his head for a moment more before dropping his hand to his side. “But uh, hey,” he greeted. “Are you…” Having a good time? No, that wasn’t the right thing to ask. “You’re here,” he decided to say instead. A bit surprised Quinn showed up at all.

               —quinn   tittered.   "no   shit,   sherlock."   you're   here.   she'd   forgotten   how   completely   awkward   kit   could   be.   he   got   away   with   it,   too;   a   puppy   transfigured   into   a   six-foot-something   beefcake.   if   she   ever   let   herself,   quinn   would   miss   the   friendship   they   had   struck   up   when   he   first   arrived.   but   she   was   quinn   morrison   and   she    didn't   do   that.   at   least,   that's   what   she   told   herself.   "got   to   be.   what   if   your   girl   shows   up?"   she   asked   with   a   bitter   rhetoric.

               a   freshman   approaches   her   with   a   green   glow   stick.   quinn   politely   declines,   waving   her   hand   to   shoo   them   away;   bravado   she   would   later   come   to   regret.   she   enters   with   the   confidence   she   was   born   into.   a   steadfast   belief   she's   above   it   all—   you   know   the   type:   everyone   else   but   me.   exclusivity   from   human   frailty.   closer   to   god   than   man.   it   was   the   morrison   way   and   quinn   was   not   immune.

               at   first,   she's   presented   with   options:   a   staircase   with   a   ghoulish   figure   looming   and   a   claustrophobic   hallway   of   chains.   she   would   rather   take   on   an   opponent   she   can   see   so   she   chooses   the   stairs.   as   expected,   the   robed   figure   lunges   at   her   as   she   reaches   the   top.   she   pushes   back,   laughing.   this   wasn't   scary.   this   was   corny.   this   was   camp.   it   was   a      kkg   event   after   all.   she   should   have   known   to   lower   her   expectations.

               quinn   has   little   interest   in   the   party   laying   ahead;   the   same   as   every   year   before.      in   fact,   she's   only   making   an   appearance   because   that   was   what   was   expected   of   the   greek   letters.   for   all   the   rivalry   between   them,   they   made   sure   to   show   up   to   each   other's   occasions   as   a   point   of   cooperation.   she   was   tri   delt's   vice   president   of   recruitment,   so   personal   choice   was   outside   the   equation.   she   did   her   best   not   to   be   the   rain   on   everyone's   parade...   by   this   point   in   the   halloween   season,   in   all   honesty,   her   social   battery   was   draining   fast.

               she   moves   forward   through   the   haunted   house,   coiled   hair   bouncing   on   her   proud   shoulders.   the   sophomore   finds   herself   in   an   empty   room.   her   first   impression?   apathetic.   the   room   is   wallpapered   white   with   some   pictures   plastered   on   top.      she   gets   closer.   curiosity,   as   usual,   reaping   bitter   fruit.   

she   recognises   a   word   emblazoned   over   and   over   again   in   bold   block   letters.   

          MISSING         

the   brunette   steps   back,   first   in   shock,   then   again   in   disgust.   a   weight   drops   in   her   abdomen.   with   a   nauseous   gulp,   she   turns   and   walks   out   as   fast   as   her   tiny   frame   is   able.   blinded   by   revulsion,   quinn   opens   the   next   door   she   sees,   hoping   for   an   exit.   she   isn't   paying   attention.   the   memory   of   greer   is   suffocating   her   senses   just   enough   for   idle   complacency   to   mutate   into   foolishness.   this   next   room   is   pitch   black   and   out   from   the   shadows   comes   a   paunchy   man   dressed   as   a   clown   —   face   paint   and   all.   he   makes   a   grab   for   her.   quinn   screams.

                      by   the   time   she   runs   all   the   way   back   to   the   entrance   she's   pale   and   clammy.   she   falters   over   the   front   step,   vision   blurred,   and   vomits.   exorcist-style.

𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕓𝕣𝕒𝕣𝕪 𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕟 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕒𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕟𝕠𝕠𝕟

          ———      ⁂      Quinn   grabbed   it;   quickly   turning   and   calling   out   its   owner's   name.   The   library   was   lively   today   and   she   got   a   few   looks.   Still,   none   of   those   eyes   belonged   to   who   she   was   looking   for.   The   sophomore   crossed   her   arms   over   her   chest   and   started   walking   to   the   double-doored   exit.   She   liked   attention.   Not   glares.   Quinn   popped   her   head   past   the   frame,   looking   left,   looking   right.   They   hadn't   gotten   far.  

                                               ❝   Hey!   You forgot this.   ❞

          ———      ⁂      This year at Ogden, Quinn had bought herself a townhouse in the local area as a birthday present. Living in dorms freshman year without somewhere to escape to had driven her half mad. A librarian had given her the idea; one of the many mornings she showed up groggy and incoherent from lack of sleep. You're rich rich. Why not buy somewhere? It hit her like a train. Veering on the sensible side, she still kept paying her dorm [ Waverly #206 ] for when she needed to be on campus. Tonight was one of those nights, with a biochem midterm stupid early in the morning.                                       She didn't know what had triggered such a petty tactic... other than the fact she merely existed. At exactly 10pm her dorm mate had decided it was the perfect time for flute practice. He just continued, getting louder and louder. Eventually, after leaving the dorm for a walk and coming back, she had enough and jumped up from her bed — grabbing the flute from his two hands and smacking it against the wall. The head joint fell to the floor with a clang. It was probably dented. He just laughed and said Bianca was right.                                      The phrase ringing through her head carried her slippered feet all the way to Linden. Quinn was FURIOUS. The sophomore didn't know if this was a Greek rivalry thing or a Pre-Med thing but whatever it was, tonight was not the night. She wrapped her knuckles furiously against Bianca's door. After she answered, Quinn dropped the rest of the flute at her feet.

                       ❝  I  need  you  to  stop  giving  your  minions  ideas  !  ❞

open / closed starter location: late night at linden housing / bianca’s dorm

the loud knocking on her door nearly made her jump out of her skin. she scrunched her eyebrows together as she hurried to finish moisturizing her face before leaving the bathroom. bianca didn’t want whoever to get the chance to pound on her door again. besides, it was late and she wasn’t expecting anyone, or was she? if she did, she forgot about their plans. bianca opened the door and plastered a smile on her face before speaking, confusion still written on her face. ❝it’s nearly midnight and you knocking on the door like you’re the police,❞ she shook her head. the pace her heart was beating would’ve given an old man a heart attack. ❝you needed something?❞

isabellafm​:

Bella stopped in her tracks, sighing, rolling her eyes, the works because, oh my god — “Proud of you for your good deed, Sandra Dee, but that’s totally not mine.” She poked her head towards the pencil case in Quinn’s hand; it was a tacky orange color, completely outside of her color scheme, and god forbid she ever used mechanical pencils. Good lord. “Though, I’m not against opening it up and digging through. Might be some goodies inside, y’know?” 

          ———      ⁂      Quinn blinked at being called Sandra Dee. She'd heard it before. Her jaw clenched, wanting to react but knowing it wasn't worth it with Bella. ❝ Oh, ❞ she held back. The pencil case had been sitting by Bella in the library but must've been left before she arrived. Quinn pulled her arm in and held the item close to her chest, pulling a frown at the fellow legacy. ❝ I think not. ❞

I come from a long line of people who should not have had children but did anyway

Hayley Williams — Simmer